


Adaptation and Discovery

by LaurenCrabtree



Category: SCP Foundation
Genre: (Courtesy of 682), 682 is Not Nice, D-Class Reader, Darkfic, Degradation, Mentions of Death, Mentions of Wound Fucking, More plot than porn, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Non-consensual scientific experimentation, Other, Sensory Deprivation, Size Difference, Temporary Loss of Hearing, Temporary loss of sight, Teratophilia, Threats of Evisceration, Unconsciousness, gender neutral reader, venom - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-07-24 08:57:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16171829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaurenCrabtree/pseuds/LaurenCrabtree
Summary: When the Foundation discovers that 682 has become venomous, they send you in to find out what the venom’s effects are without telling you of their intent. Things definitely do not go as planned.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [VelveteenPrince](https://archiveofourown.org/users/VelveteenPrince/gifts).



> Written for Bad Things Happen Bingo; @VelveteenPrince requested SCP-682 + Poison/Venom. If you want to request a fic or just chat, you can find me on Tumblr at @laurencrabtree.

It felt surreal, having the clean white door looming in front of you. You had heard stories from countless other D-Class personnel about what they went through, and much to your chagrin, they were no help at all—the door could lead to something completely harmless, or it could be the only thing that stood between you and death. In a way, not knowing at all was worse than knowing you would die; if you knew, at least you could have said your mental goodbyes.

 

“Enough dawdling, get in there.” Your train of thought was derailed by a rough push from one of the agents. Not wanting to invoke their ire, you took a deep breath and stepped through.

 

When the door closed behind you, you were left in total darkness. This made you feel strangely angry—you certainly would have preferred to know just what you were going to be put through, even if looking at it would have some kind of adverse effect. It felt like you were being denied something you had the right to know, and while you should have been scared, it just made your blood boil.

 

You took in a seething breath only for it to catch in your throat as something scaly brushed across your leg. _Whatever was in there with you, it could move._ You swore you could hear your heartbeat in the eerie silence, but you couldn’t hear anything else; how that… _thing_ moved without making any noise, you didn’t know.

 

Before you could contemplate it any further, you felt a searing, stabbing pain in your right shoulder and you collapsed to the ground with a shudder. Within two seconds, you were out like a light.

 

…

 

You woke up to the sensation of something hot and humid blowing onto your face. Blinking a few times, you hoped its source would come into view, but it didn’t; you still couldn’t see a thing. You could feel something else too now, something slimy being dragged up your side that made you feel sick to your stomach and left a slight burning sensation in its wake. Oddly, the room seemed somehow more silent than before—you couldn’t even hear your heartbeat now. Something told you that if you made a noise, it wouldn’t reach your ears. _Had you been drugged?_ Knowing the Foundation, it was certainly plausible. Given the sensations you were feeling, though, you had a feeling this wasn’t the Foundation’s work.

 

 _If it wasn’t,_ you thought to yourself, _what could it be?_ None of the possibilities were good; you knew what generally happened to people who touched living SCPs. Images flashed through your mind of yourself turned to stone or covered in tumors or disappearing from existence, and you felt as though you might faint again. You were shocked back into the moment, though, when you felt yourself being picked up by the back of your shirt and being lifted into the air. Your eyesight was faintly beginning to come back now, and you frantically strained to get a better view of whatever was holding you aloft. All you could make out was a vague outline, and even then it was unclear whether the thing was a living creature or a crane. You hoped against hope it was the latter.

 

Your hopes were dashed not two seconds later when you saw part of the thing draw closer to you. You could feel your pulse even more acutely as the thing touched lightly down on your chest, moving down to slice through your clothes like they were nothing. You heard a soft whooshing noise followed by a thump as they landed on the floor, and you could feel something wrapping around your neck, holding you steady, and you weren’t sure whether or not to feel relieved. At least your hearing was coming back.

 

As new sounds reached your ears, you grew more and more terrified by the second. A series of rumbling, low breaths, a soft, wet squelching sound, the subtle rubbing of what sounded like leather on metal, they all told you that whatever was holding you was indeed alive. Then the voice hit you.

 

“Can you hear me now?” The words oozed disdain, and they rasped against your ears like metal on stone. You knew who that voice belonged to, and your heart sank as you accepted your fate.

 

“Yes.” It was difficult, but you managed to choke out a response. Cooperating was your only chance of making it out alive. “Am I… Am I here for an interview?” You could see more clearly now, but you dared not try to look him in the eyes—accidentally angering SCP-682 was the last thing you needed.

 

“No,” he continued, beginning to lower you back down. “On the contrary; I’m actually intending to find out more about _you_ this time.”

 

Despite his devious tone of voice, you could feel your hopes rising. _Was he actually trying to initiate a civil interaction for once?_

 

“You repugnant creatures may disgust me in general, but I think I’ve finally found one thing that humans could be good for.”

 

At first you weren’t sure what he meant, but when you looked further down, your question was answered. You had thought he was lowering you back down to the floor, but now you saw what he was really doing. Directly beneath you was a long, thin, pointed monstrosity that could only be his cock. The one sliver of hope you had was gone as quickly as it came. _Of all the ways you could die here, you hadn’t expected it to be this._ With no plausible way out, you closed your eyes and waited to be torn apart.

 

But you weren’t. The pain was so blinding that you  initially couldn’t register anything else, but as you slowly opened your eyes, you were flooded with both relief and shock as you realized that you were still alive.

 

“Does that hurt?” The question was obviously rhetorical but you instinctively nodded, as if that would somehow convince him to cease moving you up and down. At least he was being courteous enough to only put the tip inside you; trying to take any more would inevitably be too much. “Good,” 682 responded. “You don’t deserve anything different. Now I—”

 

Before he could say another word, you felt his grip on your neck loosen. It only took a few seconds for you to fall to the ground, but it felt like much longer than that. The last things you saw were 682 collapsing to the floor and the door beginning to open before your head hit the floor with a crack and you blacked out.

 

…

 

“Y/N? Are you there?” The voice seemed distant and muddy as you attempted to open your eyes. You could vaguely register a burning pain in your shoulder, your neck, and between your legs, and it made even as simple an act as that seem difficult. You elected to keep your eyes closed for now; it seemed wise not to move at all.

 

“Let them rest; they’re in no state to be interviewed now. Whatever’s in that venom boosted their pain tolerance something fierce, and now it won’t be much longer before it wears off completely.” A second voice joined the first—you weren’t sure, but they seemed to be arguing about you.

 

“Alright; just make sure they stay alive. If we want to run more tests, we can’t keep sending in a new D-Class every time. Keeping this one around is the only way we can see if the venom’s effects change over time.”

 

“I know, but if I get assigned to watch one more of those tests, I think I just might die.”

 

“Yeah, speak for yourself; at least you’re not the one getting fucked by the damn thing. I’d hate to go through that even once, let alone ten times.”

 

_Ten times?_

 

That was the last thing you heard before you faded into unconsciousness again, the thought slowly trickling through your mind that you might not even make it past the second time.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for Bad Things Happen Bingo; @VelveteenPrince requested SCP-682 + Confined to Bed Rest. If you want to request a fic or just chat, you can find me on Tumblr at @laurencrabtree.

When you woke up again, the pain had gone from dull and throbbing to powerful and burning, and it felt like it was spreading through your entire body rather than confined to specific areas. You could barely keep yourself from screaming when you first registered it.

 

As you groggily got your bearings, you glanced up and took in the sterile white room around you. It looked a bit like your room back in the D-Class housing site, but it was outfitted with all the trappings of a room in a hospital—given how much pain you were in, it wasn’t hard to see why. Before you could take everything in, though, an all-too-familiar voice startled you completely awake.

 

“Good morning.” The words echoed in your ears and sent all of yesterday’s memories flooding back to you at once. “How’s my new favorite D-Class?” The question dripped with cloying disgust and you frantically looked around for its source, taking care not to move your head any more than was necessary so as not to intensify the pain. You didn’t see anything unusual—there was a vent, but the voice didn’t seem to be coming from there.

 

“Trying to find me, hm? You won’t. Dumb little human.” You knew he wasn’t exactly known for giving compliments, but the insult felt like a stab in the gut. “Suffice it to say that I’m sort of doing what I did with that laughter wave back when I met 999. You surely wouldn’t understand _how_ I’m doing it, though.” You felt your face flush red with both embarrassment and rage as he spoke. “Don’t worry; I’m still in containment… Actually, I don’t plan on breaching it for quite some time. Unless, of course, the testing ceases.”

 

Your fear grew at that. You weren’t aware of any tests being done on 682 other than the one you were a part of, and if Montauk was any indication, the Foundation wouldn’t risk a containment breach for the sake of one person.

 

“What got you here, anyway?” 682’s voice was mocking. “Murder? Arson? Or were they desperate enough to look outside of death row?” You tried to answer, but the words caught in your parched throat. “I don’t care, really; it’ll all be the same once you’re back with me.” He let out a low laugh, and while you knew he couldn’t see you, you swore he was laughing at how terrified you surely looked. He was certainly aware that his words were having an effect on you; were he not, he probably wouldn’t still be talking.

 

“I wonder what I should do when they run the next test… I could fuck you with my tongue or a claw instead. Or maybe I should make you take my cock down your throat… It wouldn’t fit all the way, of course, but that’s the point. Or if you decide to act up, I could always gut you and fuck the hole I just made, but you won’t let it come to that, will you?”

 

You shuddered at his words, beginning to feel nauseous at the thought of him doing any of those things. You knew he was trying to get exactly this sort of reaction out of you, but you told yourself that you wouldn’t resist anyway—dying was unquestionably worse than whatever temporary pain would come if you cooperated.

 

“Don’t worry, I know you won’t make me do that. Until next time…”

 

You had expected him to say more, but nothing else came—and when the door opened and a doctor entered, you knew why.

 

“How are you doing?” The doctor asked. It took a moment for you to answer, but eventually, you managed to choke out a response.

 

“I… I heard 682…”

“You did? What did he say?” The doctor’s tone went from sympathetic to serious in a fraction of a second. You tried to recount 682’s words, but you began to cry as you spoke and it only took a few seconds for your attempted explanation to devolve into incoherent sobbing. _You didn’t want to go back to that containment unit._

 

“I’m sorry, but I can’t do anything to get you out of this.” The doctor’s voice softened a bit again. “I’ll give you a half hour and come back to check on you. Try and collect your thoughts about what 682 said, okay?”

 

With that, you were left alone in the room once again, and while you couldn’t hear 682’s voice anymore, you knew he was probably feeling immensely satisfied with what he had done—and it infuriated you. You didn’t think despair would bring anger with it, but in this case, it did, and you swore that you would do everything you could to expose what the Foundation did to their D-Class personnel the moment you were free. For now, though, all you could do was go back to sleep, 682’s words in your mind and dread in your heart.


End file.
